A Man Named Murderer

Chapter One

I looked around. The first thing I noticed was the rain. It poured off rooftops in heavy droplets. The second thing I noticed was that I was in a graveyard. How did I get here? And furthermore, why am I here? I figured those questions would be answered soon. All I needed was to give them time. Okay, I need to find someone to talk to. Like a graveyard keeper. I stepped carefully, trying not to slip and fall on the mud that clung to my shoes.

"Hello?" The sound of my voice bled into the storm. No one would hear me now. Think Blair, think. Where would you be if there was a storm? Oh god, I'm dense. Of course people would be inside. So that's it then, I gotta find a house with someone in it. Easy.

Turns out finding a house in a storm is not easy at all. I couldn't see one foot in front of me, I kept on tripping on holes in the ground and gravestones, and even further it was dark, probably midnight. No stars, no moon, no light.

I squinted. Is that a house? In a graveyard? I looked side to side. There's no one here. I don't think they'd mind me looking through their house. I took a hesitant step forward, and kept on quietly walking forward until I reached the front door. Should I knock? Well it couldn't hurt to knock. So I knocked on the front door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Came from inside the house. Guessing just by the voice, he seemed like a grumpy old man.

The door opened and I was finally able to see his features. His eyes were set back into his head, watery too. His hair was thin, and greying too. It would only be a matter of time before his hair was gone forever.

"Who's there? This better not be another prank of yours!"

"I'm right here!" I said.

"Another prank, when will they ever learn?"

The old man didn't see me or hear me. He could have hearing issues and I am short, he could have just overlooked me. I might as well go inside anyway. Before he could close the door, I stepped in.

The house was cozy, sort of. There was rain dripping from the top. There was a fireplace but no fire. There were all sorts of colorful pots on the fireplace's mantle. There were lights, but they were flickering heavily. The walls were covered with cracks, the house itself was not very well taken care of. I looked to the old man, who didn't even notice me.

 "...Uh...hello...?" I was getting very confused. He should have seen me by now, right? Maybe all I need to do is make a mess or something. I could throw that nasty looking pot. He shouldn't miss that. I'll be doing him a favor. I walked over, carefully avoiding the glasses on the floor. The pot was just out of my reach. The un-advantage of being short.

I found a box that looked sturdy and dragged it over. This should work! I stepped up onto the box and reached up to the pot. 

"Got it." I whispered to myself. I still didn't know why I was being so secretive. The old man lived in a tiny, broken down house. He wouldn't be able to take me on. Holding the pot with both hands, I threw it hard on the ground. It made a very loud bang when it hit the ground. It shattered in to a million pieces, some landed on the old man. Oops. 

"What! Who's there?!" He looked around furiously. His eyes widened when he realized that the pot had broken. I thought he was going to dance and cheer, but instead he mourned. His wife made that pot. How did I even know that? I've never met this man in my entire life. How would I even know that? I bet that's not his wife's pot, and I bet he's never even had a girlfriend.

"M-my wife's pot. H-how did it break? S-she made that pot just for me." 

Now that was freaky. I guessed about the pot. He doesn't even see me or hear me, but he hears the pot break and sees it. 

"HEY! I BROKE THE POT!" I yelled just to test the system. The old man heard nothing.

"You must not disturb the living." A quiet voice whispered in my ear.

"Who's there?" I turned around to see only a shadow where someone would be.

"You must not disturb the living." It said again.

"But I'm alive."

"No. You are dead." 

The words hit me dead in the face. 

"D-dead?" I whisper, "N-no, I'm not dead. I refuse to believe that I am dead."

"You will believe it soon enough. But that is not what I am here for."

"Then what are you here for?"

"I am here to tell you that you may only move on into the afterlife if you find and catch the man who killed you."

"I was murdered?"

"Yes."

"And how am I supposed to catch a living being?"

"Are you that dense? You can manipulate the physical objects around you. Do you remember the box and the pot?" Oh yeah, I can't believe I forgot about that. I looked at the old man, who was desperately grasping the shards of broken pottery.

"So all I need to do is figure out who killed me? And then trap him?"

"Yes, however if you do not within the next three years, you will be trapped forever wandering Earth, somewhere between life and death."

Three years?! Easy. 

"Alright."

"Oh, and do be careful of churches, the priests there don't take kindly to ghosts."

"...Okay." The shadow melted into the wall, leaving me alone with the old man. I looked at him one more time before I tried to walk through the wall. Unfortunately, I just ran into it. Looks like the movies were wrong. Ghosts can't walk through walls. 

So I walked slowly to the door, opened it, and stepped out into the rain.